Then I was in darkness and away from the tower.
But I still heard the hideous noise of the heartbeats until I came to the next scene.
The Wanderer and I stood before the Mayor, inside the parlor where he received the general public.
The chamber was stifling with massive, dark furniture throughout and somber tapestries lining the walls.
His astonishment at the sight of us made me ashamed.
I suddenly remembered that the Mayor’s son, Anthony, had been one of Ella Bandita’s victims.
Suddenly, a vision of Adrianna the Beautiful in the rosy glow of her back patio came to mind.
Her large feral eyes glittered and her mouth grimaced.
“Is Ella Bandita dead?” she snarled. “We all want her dead.”
Then I catapulted back to the past of more than twenty years ago.
I traveled with my flock of forty sheep to the Capital City, where I went every year to pay my tariffs for new lambs born, and profits from sheep sold.
As happened on an annual basis, I was cursed to come across young Anthony, the Mayor’s son, who took great delight in torturing young boys considerably younger, smaller, and weaker than himself.
As I always did, I pulled Anthony off the helpless child he was beating on. And as occurred yearly, the loutish youth threatened to send his father after me and have me thrown in prison.
Of course, that never happened.
Just like Anthony was never punished for bullying younger children.
Adrianna appeared again, lounging on one of the divans on her back patio, a blazing fire behind her. Her wildcat eyes glittered.
“What about young Anthony?” she taunted. “Doesn’t Anthony deserve vengeance?”
“Hell no!” I retorted. “That vicious little brute got exactly what he deserved!”
Then I returned to the day I had heard Anthony, the Mayor’s son, had fallen victim to the predatory Thief of Hearts as a young man.
I had come to the Capital City on my yearly stop to pay my tariffs, and everybody was talking about it.
Two merchants in line ahead of me gloated in low voices that would not be heard beyond the few people around them.
“I’m sorry for our kind Mayor,” one muttered. “But if anybody had such a miserable fate coming to him, it’s Anthony.”
“I know what you mean,” said the other. “He was awfully horrid to my son ten years ago.”
“Mine too,” said the first. “He won’t be pounding little boys or slapping young ladies around any time soon. Have you seen him?”
“Yes,” said the other, who couldn’t stop sniggering. “He’s an imbecile! A drooling mess of a fool!”
“That’s what I call just desserts!”
“Sometimes Ella Bandita truly is a conquering hero!”